


Wilt the Lily

by emilime



Category: Original Story, Purgaverse
Genre: (like alcohol), Gen, I am half-asleep right now and you will suffer because of it, Pining, Underage Drinking, a baby is stabbed, bear with me y'all, don't worry they're adults in spirit and they don't grow so their growth won't be stunted, good ol' gals being pals, hopefully my writing gets less awkward as I go, how graphic must violence be to be graphic depictions of violence, i don't know what the fuck i'm doing, if anything that needs tagging happens I'll tag it, it'll be gay later on, might get violent but not too graphic, the first few chapters will be kinda short until I can get into the swing of things sorry, they need all the happiness they can get in lilyport, when will the government stop my sinful hand, whether it be natural or from outside sources
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-10-21 06:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10679754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilime/pseuds/emilime
Summary: !!!THIS IS AN ABANDONED PROTOTYPE FROM AGES AGO. I AM CURRENTLY WORKING ON THE FINAL VERSION AND WILL UPDATE WITH A WAY TO READ IT WHEN I AM FINISHED.!!! While stuck in a barren, hostile wasteland, Ambrosia finds herself appointed as the unofficial postergirl and spokesperson for the Order of the Red Cosmos, a small band of revolutionaries attempting to liberate the ramshackle city of Lilyport from the clutches of the tyrannous Boy King. However, this newfound popularity is not without its drawbacks: the King, infuriated by Ambrosia's ability to rally the people, will stop at nothing to put down the revolution.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Jack for helping me with all my awkward sentences and for dealing with all my bullshit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet our main cast of characters and a bunch of soldiers get wasted.

Ambrosia cleared her throat, cutting through the idle chatter of the troops below her. Even from her place at the podium, she could feel their stares boring holes into her skull. With a quick glance around the room, she began to speak. “You are all here for a reason. We can no longer sit complacently as the Boy King lounges on his throne, treating us common folk like pawns in his giant, sadistic chess game! Now is the time to act!” A few cheers arose from the audience. “If we cut off his suppliers, his reserves of food and ammunition will run dry, rendering him helpless. This will allow us to strike, and finally return Lilyport to its proper owners: the people!” Even the more stoic in the crowd were beginning to join in the revelry. Ambrosia, too, began getting riled up, and pounded her fists on the podium as she continued. “We know what we must do. All that is left is to take the initiative! We must fight for what is rightfully ours!” she declared with a note of finality, and was met with a resounding cheer. A few of the inebriated rebels began a chant of “Take him down!”, some even standing on tables. Ambrosia, as if waking from a trance, reverted to her usual, stiff stature and stepped away from the podium. On her way out of the hall, she felt a familiar hand placed delicately on her shoulder.

“You did pretty well tonight,” Minerva offered with a smile. Ambrosia attempted to muster up a smile in return, but couldn’t seem to get more than a pained grimace. They left the building together in silence.

“Y’know, sometimes I just don’t know why I do it,” Ambrosia confessed, an empty bottle by her side, her legs dangling off the edge of the roof. This seemed to be their normal Friday night routine now: give speech, leave dining hall, climb to roof, get wasted, and get introspective. Of course, neither was going to complain. Any moment of companionship below a certain decibel level was greatly appreciated on nights like these, be it reflective or not.

“I can’t blame you,” Minerva replied, already lying down. She stared straight upwards, as though searching for something, but whatever it was was never there. The sky was gray, as usual. Ambrosia didn’t see the point of it, but apparently Minerva did. "I don't think I would be able to handle people relying on me like that," she mumbled, almost to herself. Ambrosia turned abruptly to face her.

"But that's just the thing! People rely on you for so much-- heck, you run the most important business this side of the river-- yet you manage to stay level-headed instead of caving under the pressure." Ambrosia lied back down next to her friend. "I'm just here to rile up a bunch of drunkards and even _that_  is nearly too much for me!"

"You don't think nearly enough of yourself, Ammie." Minerva simply got an amused huff in reply. "I'm serious." Minerva sat up ramrod straight. She locked eyes with Ambrosia, her face dead serious. "You mean a lot to them, Ambrosia. They really believe in you." They stayed like this for a moment before Minerva lied back down again, eyes closed this time. The air was thick with words unsaid, and both of them could tell. Eventually, Minerva decided to break the silence. She sat up, leaning back on her hands. "Hope is a hard thing to come by around here, Ams. Never forget that." With that, Minerva was gone, climbing down the roof surprisingly dexterously despite her intoxication.

* * *

 

"What do you mean he defected? People can't just leave my military! Either get him back or get rid of him!" With a nod, the messenger ran off, as he ought to. Defectors? The Boy King couldn't believe his ears! Well, he could, but he was still upset about it. To have the audacity to turn tail and run off... was actually quite sensible, really, but he didn't hire these people for their sense, he hired them to follow orders! Really, it was bad enough he couldn't get that pesky merchant working full-time for him; he didn't need his own troops giving information over to the enemy. Speaking of the merchant... "Someone get me that merchant girl in here, and fast!" he bellowed from his seat, leaving his staff scrambling about.

It was at least an hour later when one of them finally managed to track her down and bring her in. "How nice of you to finally join us!" the Boy King managed to chirp from behind the gritted teeth of his forced smile.

"I'm sorry, I thought fashionably late was your kind of thing." She smirked and stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets as she strolled down the hallway, acting as though it were the most casual thing in the world. She stopped just short of the throne and let the smile melt off of her face. "So let's cut the pleasantries,  _your highness_ ," she imbued as much sarcasm as she possibly could into the words, as usual, "what do you want from me this time?" The Boy King's thin facade somehow dropped even faster than Minerva's had.

"You know very well what I want from you, Minnie. I want all the info you've got on those filthy rebels." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A drop off is intercepted, the Unkillable Lesbian™ and PTA Mom Jr make a brief appearance, and the girls have some quality ~communication~. Ambrosia has no sense of self-preservation, as usual.

The sun bore down on their backs as they made their way to the drop point. The plan was simple enough: they were to get to the location told to them by Minerva, preferably before the Boy King's goons, and wait until the goods were in sight. Whatever happened next was up to them. Some of the troops had begun to gripe about the wait; clearly this was not their preferred way of spending an afternoon. A few even went so far to claim the information was fake, a ploy by Minerva to throw them off of the Boy King's trail. Around three hours in, Ambrosia herself began to question the integrity of the details they'd been given, but the thumping of heavy footfall across the clearing was quick to prove her wrong.

She quickly peeked out from behind the crumbling stone wall she had been using as cover. Two redheads, carrying a large wooden crate. Either very strong women or very light cargo. One poorly masked her discontent while the other appeared wholly indifferent. Either way, they were not to be engaged; they were from Oakfaire, and simply doing business. The Order's goal was not to make enemies with neighboring cities. They would have to wait for the two to leave.

It turned out that the redheads, though seemingly hating each other, had a knack for standing around and chatting. In the time it took for them to finally begin their walk back to Oakfaire, at least three royal messengers had arrived and taken shelter behind some trees opposite Ambrosia and her troops. Of course this mission wouldn't be easy. Ambrosia skirted the clearing, moving in only after the messengers had approached the crate. They may be good at following orders, but they're not the most observant. In a few silent strides, Ambrosia was behind the smallest of the group, and had her knife unsheathed and pressed against his throat before the others could so much as bat an eye.

"Step away from the crate," she commanded. "You don't want to get blood all over your nice uniforms, do you?" The others were frozen, as though not sure whether or not she was bluffing. Ambrosia pressed a little harder. A trickle of red ran down the messenger's neck. "I haven't got all day. I, personally, would rather not kill him, but it's all up to you." She nodded at the crate. They glanced at each other, back at Ambrosia, and slowly backed away. "Good." The hostage was released, and scrambled over to join his comrades. That went far more smoothly than anticipated, Ambrosia thought as she sheathed her knife. She hadn't been counting upon the biggest messenger to come running at her, landing a solid punch to her face. Like a dam breaking, the troops came rushing in from all sides, throwing themselves upon the messengers. The attacker disappeared under a pile of bodies, and the other three were grabbed and hogtied. As the troops dispersed to grab the crate, as well as anything they had brought with them that might have been left behind in the chaos, Ambrosia could see the deep red of the messenger's blood staining the ground, the dirt around his mangled corpse turned to mud.

The troops arrived back at the base to a resounding cheer, and the overwhelming surge of bodies flooding towards them, be they to hug, high-five, or do some other physical show of affection. Ambrosia waited by the door for the clamor to subside, and heard the pitter-patter of Minerva's light footsteps behind her before she felt the familiar hand on her shoulder. "Looks like the mission went pretty well toda-" Minerva cut herself short as the shorter girl turned to face her, giving her full view of the bruise blooming around her eye. "Good god, Ambrosia, what happened?"

"I was careless, got punched in the face. Thought that much was obvious. It's nothing important."

Minerva was clearly unsatisfied with her answer. "You always say that, Ammie. You can't keep getting yourself in danger like this." Her eyes were rife with concern, her mouth set in a frown that didn't suit her.

"It's my job, Minerva. If I preach revolution to them yet stay hang back when we have to fight for our freedom, I'm nothing more than a fraud. I can't allow myself to be a leader in name alone." 

"A true leader knows when to let someone else take care of things. You have to consider your own health, Ambrosia. If you..." Minerva trailed off, not enjoying where her train of thought seemed to be heading. "The troops would be lost without you. The general can write all the battle plans he likes, but without you he'd have no troops to follow them. They listen to you, not him." That, Ambrosia could agree with. The general was a bit of a dick. Any response she had been planning was cut short by a hand around her arm. Panicking, she pulled away before realizing it was simply one of her troops, clearly very excited.

"Sorry ma'am. Just wanted to let you know that we found something to open the crate! We'd like you to do the honors, since you led the charge." He flashed her a bright smile, teeth contrasting sharply with the ruddy browns of the dirt covering every inch of his body, and the bodies of the rest of the troops, for that matter.

"Of course. Lead the way," Ambrosia remarked evenly, stiffening as she once again adopted her cool, collected leader persona. Minerva decided against following her as she made her way across the room to the box, now surrounded by the troops, chattering and buzzing with anticipation. One of them handed Ambrosia an old, bent crowbar, and Minerva could see her straining to pry the lid off with the less than optimal equipment. It finally budged with a pop, and was quickly whisked away by the eager crowd. Their faces quickly went from eagerness to confusion.

"It's... bread?"

A quick glance was shared among the revolutionaries before a cacophony of cheers rang out. Soldiers who normally couldn't stand each other put their differences aside and embraced each other tightly, shorter members of the crowd were lifted upon shoulders to have a better view of the haul, and Ambrosia was lost amidst the revelry. After a few minutes had passed, she managed to make her way up to the podium at the front of the hall. A hush fell upon the troops as they waited with baited breath for their beloved leader to speak. She cleared her throat. "As you all know, the goal of this mission was to intercept a shipment of precious munitions on their way to the Boy King. Obviously something changed along the way." This got a laugh from the crowd. "Even though these are not the goods we were expecting, it is a blessing nonetheless. With this, we can postpone hunger while still delivering a blow to the King. We will force him to experience the discomfort of hunger that the poor of his city suffer through every day!" The troops cheered in agreement, but Ambrosia was not yet finished. "He will feel the full extent of the terrible conditions he forces upon those he deems inferior. No longer will we allow this injustice to stand! Heed my words, he will pay!" Another resounded cheer boomed, echoing off of the low ceiling and shaking the windows. She gave a slight bow, stepped away from the podium, and was once again immersed in the chaos. Bumping and elbowing, she made her way to the back of the hall, desperate to escape the pandemonium and get some air. Time sped up around her, the denim over her arms and shoulders suddenly too tight, the clamor too loud. A hand on her shoulder. The dull gray of her knife against the sepia of Minerva's neck. The worry in her eyes. The way her breath hitched as she finally spoke.

"Let's get out of here."

They once again found themselves upon the roof. They sat there for a while, both pretending to not notice the thick, uncomfortable silence that surrounded and divided them, smothering them like a blanket. Ambrosia was the first to break it. "I'm sorry about earlier," she confessed, eyes locked upon her feet.

"No, no, I shouldn't have touched you. I know that you get really stressed in situations like that." Minerva scooted closer.

"Yeah, but I should be better at controlling myself under stress." Ambrosia shied away. It was a routine at this point, a dance they both knew far too well.

"Ambrosia, you shouldn't be so hard on yourself all the time." There was the name. Ambrosia knew that whenever Minerva called her by her full name instead of one of the various affectionate nicknames she often opted for, she was dead serious.

"If I don't, who else will?" Ambrosia blurted out, surprising even herself. She turned her head away, hiding her face from the gentle scrutiny of Minerva's too soft, too caring eyes. She didn't deserve such gentleness, such compassion. "They think too highly of me. I don't want them to be let down if they ever see me for who I really am." Minerva, taken aback by the candid honesty displayed by her usually walled-off companion.

"Ammie. You know I care about you a lot, right?" Ambrosia turned back to face her and nodded. "And that I would never lead you astray?" Another nod. "So take my word when I tell you that that is the biggest, stinkiest, most fly-covered bullshit I have ever seen. Like, that must've come from an absolutely massive cow." This got a snicker from Ambrosia, who shoved Minerva playfully.

"You're ridiculous, Minnie." Ambrosia smiled a toothy smile, and Minerva's breath caught in her throat. She managed to compose herself quickly enough to fire back.

"Yep, and you're stuck with me until kingdom come." Ambrosia laughed at that, a bright, heavenly sound, and in that moment Minerva decided she would gladly be seen as ridiculous for the rest of her life if it let her hear that laugh more often. The girls continued on like this until they fell asleep, a speck of happiness under a cruel, unforgiving gray sky.

* * *

 

She had no idea where she was. There was a gate-- that was for certain-- and a very detailed one at that, with intricate etchings all along its frame. She went to pull on the doors, but realized they had no handles, or anything she could grab onto, for that matter. They were completely smooth, in stark contrast to the detailed, carved arch they were set in. She figured it was time to get moving.

She wandered for days upon end without eating, and couldn't remember ever being so hungry. In fact, she couldn't seem to remember anything at all, but that could be addressed later. For now, she needed to find somewhere to sleep and maybe something to eat, if she was lucky. She had managed to find a small pool with clean enough water to drink, but she couldn't stay. She had a feeling that there would be others who wanted that water, and wouldn't be too happy to share. She was in no shape to defend herself, so she walked on.

She walked. She wasn't certain how long she walked for, but she walked. She didn't have a watch (had she ever owned one?) and there didn't appear to be a sun or moon to use to tell the time. After what felt like ages, was probably a few hours, but might've been a minute or two, she could just barely make out the shapes of buildings on the horizon. This sign of life was enough to plant a renewed sense of hope within her and put vigor in her step, and she ignored her aching muscles and broke into a jog. As she neared the city, she was able to distinguish individual buildings. She counted them to keep her mind off of her fatigue. Wow, there were at least twenty houses! Twenty _real_ houses! So far, the closest she had seen to a house here was a wooden crate with a doorbell drawn on it. It must've been her lucky day.

It was not her lucky day. The first thing she noticed as she entered the town was that none of the houses had a single closed door. They were either widen open, off the hinges, or broken and splintered. The second thing she noticed was the blood, and boy, was there a lot of it. Several trails of blood led out of the small housing tract, as though the remains of former inhabitants had been dragged away. Her observations were interrupted by the sharp wailing of what must've been an infant. Was probably an infant.  _Hopefully_ an infant. She searched each house in turn, finding nothing until she reached the last house in the row. Standing in what was once a living room, she could clearly hear the crying upstairs, as well as the footsteps of something far heavier than a baby. Definitely not her lucky day.

She held her breath and waited, although she was unsure of what she was waiting for. Eventually, she heard a voice cooing gently to the baby. Phew. Alright, she would just head upstairs, ask the parent where she was, apologize for the intrusion, and leave with a newfound sense of direction. She went over the plan in her head as she climbed the staircase, but froze in her tracks as she reached the top. The man holding the baby was holding a knife behind his back. Okay, it could just be that he was defending himself earlier and wanted to be prepared in case he was attacked again. He was raising the knife. He could just be... stretching his arm? He was bringing the knife down swiftly, burying it in the soft skin of the sleeping newborn's chest. Holy shit, he's killing the baby. Ambrosia may or may not have accidentally said that last part out loud, as the man turned on his heel to face her, the baby now writhing and screaming in the crook of his arm. He wrenched the knife out of the baby with a sickeningly wet squelch, and brandished it in Ambrosia's direction. This day was as far from lucky as they come.

Ambrosia left the housing tract with a new knife, a hardened heart, and one eye fewer than she entered with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters will get longer soon, I promise  
> also fuck it I'm throwin some pining in this bitch you get some pining you get some pining everyone here gets some pining


End file.
